


Poem: The Emperor's New Clothes

by PhantomSpade



Series: Fairytale Horrors [12]
Category: Keiserens nye Klæder | The Emperor's New Clothes - Hans Christian Andersen, Original Work
Genre: Blood, Clothing, Con Artists, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, Deception, Fairy Tale Retellings, Horror, Insanity, Lies, Poetry, Public Nudity, Stupidity, Vanity, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18810334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomSpade/pseuds/PhantomSpade
Summary: There was an emperor who loved showing off to people wearing the most fashionable clothes he could wear. Along came two con men masquerading as tailors who promised to weave him the finest clothes, when they made him nothing. Everyone but the emperor could only see his bare form, yet they played along with deception in fear of being seen as fools. Only for one child to reveal the truth, only for the emperor to not care.But in this retelling, that doesn't quite end that way.





	Poem: The Emperor's New Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> The Emperor's New Clothes (c) Hans Christian Andersen

There once was an emperor who ruled over  
a kingdom of beauty. The Emperor, vain  
and shallow as a small river, cared for  
only one person. That was he.

Looks only mattered to him. Many  
clothes he had worn, he could not  
get enough. He only desired the  
most tantalizing garments he wore.

Pride he had in his appearance:  
hair well-groomed, body sculpted  
with muscles, and cock large and  
strong like an ox. A perfect body for him.

His vanity showed no bounds, for  
he desired only clothes that made  
him beautiful, made him a god  
to the people he ruled over.

He only cherished himself, the  
only human in the kingdom.  
And his wish was to wear the  
most beautiful clothes he could.

Then it came true.

Two men, charming and mysterious  
as magic, had ventured into  
the Emperor's castle to be  
the ones who make his wish true.

"Your Highness," said the Tailors,  
"We are tailors of royal degree; we  
had sown the most elegant clothes  
many kings had worn."

The Emperor was a skeptic, a picky  
child at worst. "You have weaved  
beautiful garments to royal worn  
on their grotesque bodies?"

The Tailors smiles disguised their  
calculating minds. "Indeed we did.  
We will weave you clothes so  
beautiful, no human would ever see."

The Emperor bought their lie, his  
narcissism blinding his mind from  
seeing that he would be deceived.  
His own beauty was his only objective.

They had set to work. The Tailors  
"weaved" their creation with their  
finest threads, the clothes in the  
making unseen and unspeakable.

One Tailor did the weaving, the other  
did the measuring of the Emperor,  
who stood in his naked glory, eager  
for his beautiful dressing.

The Emperor was in delight, eager to  
be dressed in robed that complimented  
his beautiful body; more beautiful than  
everyone else in his own domain.

The Tailor measured everything; the  
broad shoulders, a thick chest covered  
with hair trimmed to the curl, and the  
family jewels thick and pulsing red.

The Emperor was a fool. He was oblivious  
to the deceit of the two men. He did  
know that soon, he would face more  
than his own humiliation.

The Tailors were done with their "work" and  
prepared to "dress" their Emperor.  
"Dear Sire, close your eyes and  
do not move a single inch."

The Emperor did so. The Tailors were of  
promise, he assured himself that he  
would trust their taste. Indeed he was  
a fool walking into their trap.

"Now, your Highness. Look."  
The Emperor did so. He was  
met with the confused stare of  
his own in his grand mirror.

There was no sign of clothing on him.  
He was still bare as he was born.

"What is the meaning of this? You  
did not weave anything for me!"  
The Emperor was infuriated, but  
the Tailors continued their con.

"Indeed we did, my sire. The thread  
we had used cannot be seen by the  
wearer, for they are unable to see how  
majestic their clothes appear on them."

"Yes, your Majesty. Only other humans  
will see that the clothes you are wearing  
are too beautiful for even your eyes.  
They will be a loss of words."

A false smile, each on their faces,  
the Emperor fell for their lie. The  
money he would pay, he would pay  
for being a fool to their scheme.

The day had arrived. The Emperor was  
to show his people his newest wardrobe;  
one that the Tailors claimed to have  
made him a sight to behold.

The Tailors had given one warning  
to the citizens: "The Emperor is unaware  
of his lack of clothing. You are forbbiden  
to say the truth to him. If one speaks out,

You will all be branded as fools  
and pay the price."

The people swore to the malicious  
promise; they did not want to be  
seen as fools by the Emperor.  
They could not make him aware.

The Emperor sat upon the nervous  
gazes of his people; he could not  
see that his "clothes" elicited  
tension and mockery.

Pride swelled in his heart. His  
unsuspecting nudity gave him  
the illusion of beauty.  
He was a fool.

No one dared to speak. They  
were not able to shield their  
eyes lest they aroused the  
Emperor's buried suspicion. 

There stood a man, birth and  
bred from royalty, his bare body  
exposed to the petrified souls  
of the common people. 

In the midst of the nervousness,  
a child watched with only confusion.  
His guardian could not cover  
his innocent eyes, so he saw. 

It was a mistake.  
A foolish mistake. 

The Child pointed at the Emperor,  
innocent little mouth opened;  
everyone around him saw, but  
they were too late to stop him. 

"The Emperor is not wearing any clothes!"

The Child had spoken the truth.  
The illusion was broken, the  
people were filled with fear, and  
the Emperor...he could not believe. 

Pride in his mind and heart  
shattered and swelled. The  
Emperor did not want to believe  
he was a fool. He was no fool. 

The Child's mistake had costed  
the peoples' silence. The Tailors'  
warning came to life and lives  
were to be claimed.

Bodies screamed in agony, flesh  
slowly dissolving into puddles  
of blood, painting the ground  
with the people who had stood. 

The Emperor only saw his people  
worshipping him; he had lost his  
mind. He laughed, he laughed  
with glee and madness in  
his arrogant illusion. 

The Emperor stepped up. He threw  
himself down, feeling desire for  
the physical admiration to  
feed his vain ego. 

He rolled and rolled around  
into the pools of his peoples'  
blood, painting his "clothes"  
red as his lost mind. 

The Tailors were kind enough to  
protect the Child's innocent eyes,  
sparing him from the Emperor's  
display of foolish madness.

"You did well, dear Child.  
The Emperor's vanity  
had costed his sanity."


End file.
